This got me thinking...

The other day a friend of mine asked me what in the world I was gonna do with 3 boys.  At first I just laughed.  But then the Lord really laid it on my heart to be thinking about that.  So here's what I've been thinking:

-When I found out I was pregnant this time- I VERY much wanted a girl.  But about 4 months in, I guess I sort of had a change of heart. I would have been happy either way, but I don't know that I'd be able to handle the challenges girls bring. Not so much at first- but the later years :) I think the Lord knows me better than I know myself. And honestly- deep down inside I was very happy it was a boy.

-I think the world is in need of Godly men. Actually- I KNOW the world is in need of Godly men. Not that we have some magical power to create them, but the Lord really laid it on my heart to be praying over my children every night. I've tried very hard to make it a nightly habit. Sometimes I linger and my prayers linger with me, sometimes it's short and sweet.  I don't know what the future holds for my 3 boys- but I pray they'll have a saving knowledge of Jesus and they'll love and serve Him whole heartedly. 

- I've realized how important it is to make them a part of my day. If I have the attitude of "I can't get anything done with them around"...I'm the one missing out on a huge blessing.  So yes- errands take much longer, but I remind myself they're learning self-control and contentment in their circumstances ;)  Cleaning- well- it takes all day- but they're learning to be good stewards of what God's blessed them with. 

Lastly- as tired as I am, as much as my back aches, as dirty as my house is... one day they'll be gone.  The thought brings tears to my eyes.  I want to enjoy every last minute of it. 

So what am I going to do with 3 boys- I'm going to have a happy heart about them, I'm going to pray for them and I'm going to cherish each one of them. 

The Sandlot

We get home today and Mikey isn't feeling real well. He's real quite, has a slight fever, just not acting like his usual cheerful self.  I decide it's time for him to just rest on the couch with a movie and a blanket. He picks out "The Sandlot", hmmmm...I've never seen it before, but it's rated PG. So I read the back- OK- it has scary scenes. Mikey doesn't really get scared about things- he can handle Pirates of the Caribbean ride so I figure I'd ask Phillip who's going to walk through the door at any moment. 

Here's our conversation:

Me: "Honey is this movie OK for Mikey to watch?"

Phillip: (shrugging his shoulders) "Yeah- its fine"

Me: "Are you sure- there's not bad language in it?"

Phillip: "Honey they talk like older boys do- you know calling each other dumb names and stuff"

Me: "So is it ok for Mikey to watch?"

Phillip: "Yeah- it's just about baseball"

So we start it- it's playing- I'm making dinner - listening to the dialogue in the background. OK- so they say crap, kind of a lot. I say crap too, I think I can deal with that. 

Then comes the pool scene...not so into that. Especially when the kid drops an "S" bomb- Phillips dying laughing- "Oh shoot- I forgot about that" he says.

Ok- then comes the scene with the "other" baseball team kids.  Yeah- the one where they boys rattle off LOTS of big-boy words...

Idiot- jerk- Moron- Butt Sniffer- Crap- etc, its going on and on.  

The whole time Mikey's just sitting there staring, he gets a smile when he hears the word butt sniffer.  He really starts laughing when he hears:

"You play ball like a giiiiirrrrrllllll"...  

Lesson learned: don't take movie advice from my husband. Which I should already know since he thinks that "No Country for Old Men" is the greatest movie of all time.  Dumb. 

Pregnancy

It's starting. You know. You lay down after a busy day and the baby wakes up. Not the baby fast asleep in the next room, but the baby in your womb. It actually started a few weeks ago, but now it's a nightly occurrence.  I have to admit, it's both my blessing and my curse. :)

I love the miracle of it, there's a sweet little baby boy growing inside of me. I'm nourishing and caring for him and I don't even have to think about it. He (Joshua) reminds me of this every night. When I lay my head down, am completely exhausted, he decides to remind me about this little miracle.  It's bittersweet. It makes me a little sad that he's my last one. In fact, the ironic part is that I actually got very teary eyed when I thought about that...

So that's what I've been up to lately.  Laughing to crying, nesting to exhausted. That whole "you'll get your energy back during the 2nd trimester" thing... it's a big fat lie. But thats the irony of it right? 

Dear Lord Jesus- forgive my flippant heart.